Page 21 of The Last Man on Earth
Ariana shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt as much as before.”
“Cool,” I mutter. “You used the bathroom today?”
Her eyebrows go up. “Really?”
I stare at her, confused by her confusion.
“Fine. I didn't,” she admits. “I haven’t had to go. I’m probably dehydrated.”
I pull a bottle of water out of the pile and hold it out to her. “You can die from that, shorty. Drink this.”
She shakes her head.
“You gon’ make me have to bury you, too?”
That gets through to her, it seems. She reaches out, taking the bottle from me, her fingers brushing against mine in the process. It’s just her skin against my skin, no more than a second’s worth of time, but it burns like fire. I feel like I’ve been starving for contact and didn’t even know it. I was just touching all on her leg yesterday, but that didn’t feel like this.
I don’t move right away. Neither does she. Then she jerks her hand away, eyes dropping to the ground.
I swallow hard, wondering what the fuck that was and ifshefelt it, too.
She unscrews the cap, takes one sip, then says, “I think we should try to conserve water.”
“We leavin’ today, so it don’t really matter.”
She doesn’t respond, just presses her lips together.
But I guess her silence is an answer in itself.
I watch her take a few more sips, looking like she hates every minute of it. Her lips are dry and her skin looks about as pale as a brown-skinned black woman can look.
But damn if she don’t look beautiful still.
“I got a question.”
Her eyebrows lift.
“Who you got back home that’s missing you?”
Her shoulders slump a little. “My twin sister. My nieces. My parents.” She pauses, then says, “My boyfriend.”
“Oh, you really got a nigga? I thought you just said that to my cousin to keep him off you.”
Her lips twitch like she wants to smile. “It’s new. I really like him, though.”
“You love him?”
“It’s new,” she repeats. “I’m sure that’ll come eventually.”
“What’s his name?”
“Luca.”
I snort. “Stupid ass name.”
She shakes her head, but I catch the corners of her mouth tipping upward.
Then she flips it on me. “When’s the wedding?”
